


Hold Me Still

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Spirits and Cocaine [3]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, Protectiveness, Sad and Sweet, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: This was a war and they weren't soldiers.
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Series: Spirits and Cocaine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100027
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Hold Me Still

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Forehead touch.

Javier recognized the signs before they’d even cleaned up the sidewalk, before the last body was carried out on a stretcher, and before Steve even knew he was shattering to a dozen pieces. The attack on the police was brutal, pointed, familiar but the aftermath never got any easier, wasn’t supposed to and Javier had seen the way Steve’s hands had shook as he stared at the carnage. He’d lasted longer than most, jumping into action, admirable given what little experience he had with it all, with something so eerily close to war. 

Blood stained both their hands, their clothes and Javier watched as Steve stared down at them, his gaze a little vacant, his eyes just a little too wide. Without another word, he grabbed him by his arm, fingers curling around him too tightly, but he didn’t complain, just let himself be dragged around the side of the building.

In a perfect world, he’d have taken the man further away, somewhere quiet, without sirens and the occasional moan from the wounded that weren’t in bad enough shape to take valuable space in an ambulance…but you make do. By the time they reached a spot that was hidden away from prying eyes, Steve’s chest was heaving, lungs working overtime to suck in enough air, and Javier moved quickly.

Pressing him back against the speckled wall, just in the shade of the roof, he pressed a hand firmly to his chest and grabbed one of Steve’s so he could mirror it against his own, before speaking firmly, “follow my breath, Steve, follow it.”

He wasn’t listening, sure he was trying, it just wasn’t helping. Javier wasn’t an expert, typically sat out these little episodes in the privacy of his own apartment, could count on one hand the number of times he’d been in public. One of those, he’d been with Horacio, so without preamble he did exactly what the other man did to him.

Slapping Steve probably should have made him feel guilty, the shocked look in his eyes certainly enough to make him grimace, but the redness was already fading, wouldn’t be enough to get a drunk’s attention normally.

“Follow my breath,” Steve sucked in air slowly, matching his dramatized movements. “That’s it, just keep lookin at me.”

The man’s gaze could be unsettling, intense, had been when he’d woken up to it this morning, yet right now, there was something vulnerable, afraid about it, and the sudden swell of protectiveness that rose up in him was startling. Already, he was getting better, looking a little more focused, breathing almost perfectly controlled. It would only get better once he got him inside with the air conditioning, a bit of water maybe, get some leave to send him home early. Javier could deal with the aftermath and debrief; hell Steve probably didn’t even know the protocol for this shit.

“Javi?” his voice was a bit strained, making him wince.

“Yeah, you’re alright. I think you just got a bit overwhelmed.”

Steve blinked, the hand still pressed firmly to Javi’s chest seeming to curl inwards, twisting in his shirt, holding on to him, “you slapped me.”

He forced a smile, “well it helped didn’t it?”

The huff of laughter was gratifying, even as Steve leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed, chest still working a bit harder than it should be. There was no rush, they had all the time in the world…which he guessed was about forty minutes before the embassy would start panicking without their check in.

If they weren’t already.

Javi’s own head was a little messy just then, trying to figure out what exactly might have triggered the brazen attack. Escobar liked his bombs, liked making a show of his strength but it was rarely without purpose and right now, the last thing they needed was to have him channeling all his attention on the police force. He shook his head, focused back on his breathing, knew better than to get himself riled up at a time like this.

Instead, his eyes settled on the long line of Steve’s throat, the sweat that was slowly cutting a path through the grime on his skin, the occasional speckle of blood. Yeah, the sooner Steve got home and showered, he’d feel a hell of a lot better.

Without thinking too much about it, without looking around to see who might be watching, he let his hand slide higher, until he was touching the base of his throat, skin on skin and the steady thrumming of his pulse was like a god damn lullaby in the middle of this nightmare.

“Javi? You alright?”

He wasn’t, not that it mattered, not right then. Instead of answering, or meeting Steve’s eyes, he let his hand drift until he was cupping the back of Steve’s neck, tugging lightly on the little hairs there in the way he knew the man liked. It was a comfort thing, he’d been told, late one night after a bit too much to drink for both of them.

Except, he kept tugging until Steve lifted his head and leaned forward, prompting Javi to meet him halfway. They ended up with their foreheads pressed together, inhaling and exhaling like they were sharing the same damn lungs, Steve’s hand still gripping his shirt like a lifeline and the whole thing, was almost enough to make Javi want to cry.

Steve didn’t comment, didn’t complain and Javi was grateful he was letting him have this, was allowing this small peaceful moment in the middle of this shitty storm. Somewhere in the distance there were still sirens, a few shouts and cries, but all of it could be easily blended into the normal sounds of Colombia, of this battleground.

Carefully, slowly, Javi imprinted this day on his mind, added it to the list in his head of reasons why. It seemed to be forever getting longer and he could only hope that the day he watched Pablo Escobar die, would be the day these nightmares would turn into distant memories.


End file.
